


Endless Nothingness

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, I Ship It, No Beta We Die as Men, i can only promise a wild ride and lots of angst, you're in it for a treat if you join this cross ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 21:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30045084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: From the moment they met Agatha knew she would watch Loki die despite every attempt she’s made to change the future. She’s still grieving him when she meets Wanda, a powerful witch able to change the past. Agatha will stop at nothing to bring him back—no matter what it costs.
Relationships: Agatha Harkness & Loki, Agatha Harkness/Loki
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12
Collections: Anonymous





	Endless Nothingness

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, this is my first time writing this ship in this fandom and bear with me it's been on my mind since the chaotic events of WandaVision took place. Sit back and enjoy the ride, you're in for an angsty road between the two biggest agents of chaos in the MCU.

**PROLOGUE**

— * —

_We let the waters rise_   
_We drifted to survive_   
_I needed you to stay_   
_But I let you drift away_

— * —

She’s alone again.

She’s used to loneliness.

Agatha never particularly had a problem with being alone. Since the very start, it had been just her all long. When her mother brought her to the coven, a young witch discovering her gift, she had been fascinated, the most dedicated in her studies. But she was always alone, even in a coven. Agatha was not like the others and that wasn’t simply for her impeccable learning skill and power absorption—an ability so rare it gave away just how powerful Agatha was going to be. She was a threat to the other’s in the coven, but she was the daughter of their leader so she was there. But Agatha was always cast aside, no other witch ever willing to teach her. But she preferred it that way, unattended and left alone with her powers. It was easy for it all to become dull as she grew, for the incantations to be below her skillset. Was it so wrong that she sought for more, that she dug deeper?

After the mess was made and the other witches were gone, murdered by her draining their powers and their lives, Agatha always wondered _why_ her mother had that book in her possession, the book of the doomed. If Agatha and the others weren’t allowed to study dark magic, _why_ her mother had the book in the first place? For the one that was nearly burnt at the stake by her own coven, her people, good and evil were blurred lines, two sides of the same coin serving an equal purpose. Was she evil because she made magic bent to her power, to her inexplicably gifted self? Was she good because later she helped guide other witches unlike her coven had done to her? Agatha thought there was no good and no bad, there were just those wanting to get ahead, and she always did.

They were all dead and gone now, Agatha was a sorcerer unlike any other, and it was all ancient history. But nothing really matter, did it? Not when Loki had just been killed before her, a _vision_ she’d had the day they met all these years ago when he had walked through a portal right into her study, around 1703. Unbeknownst to the both of them, Agatha had summoned him. Her magic pulled forces from different dimensions and portals opened at times. He came through a purple haze of magic that settled in her basement, with the incantation calling up to his awake, looking smug and mischievous, and ready to attack whatever had brought him there. She’d heard of the legends of the Gods, she had read and studied about Asgard but it still took her by complete surprised to see one there, first hand. She had recognized the clothing style from ancient books that drew and described how they carried themselves and when the man was quick to shift his appearance to something alike her dress code, Agatha _knew_ him to be a trickster, a God of mischief and deception.

Loki had his own affairs on Earth, searching for a certain infinity stone he’d gotten word it was lost in the universe, but Agatha’s magic had been a sudden unexpected passage to exactly where he needed to be. He was impressed because mortals normally didn’t possess such powers, especially not Earth borns. They were the most weak and ordinary of the universes. But there was nothing weak about Agatha, and certainly nothing ordinary about their relationship. They hadn’t started with the right foot, but they fell with ease in the grace of bantering with one another. It wasn’t just the sex at same time it was frequently nothing but it.

Her magic messed up with his, and the other way around wasn’t any different. So, many nights, for nearly a century, Loki and Agatha threw spells and curses at each other, until the clothes were gone and they were just two beings falling into the charming delicious feelings of the flesh.

He was a God in the most quintessential sense of the word, tall and dark haired and absolutely breathtaking with a perfect nose and the cynic smirk, the manners when he saw Agatha was a sorcerer herself—and a lady. He could choose who he wished and she was a witch and she could bend people to her own liking (Agatha had been, after all, extremely great at mind-control incantations), but it was the conflicting agendas that made all so exciting for the two of them. Hehad introduced himself as Loki, son of Odin, whom the world knew to be the father of Norse mythology. Her magic messed up with his, and the other way around wasn’t any different. So, many nights, for nearly a century, Loki and Agatha threw spells and curses at each other, until the clothes were gone and they were just two beings falling into the charming delicious feelings of the flesh. Agatha, unlike the rest of humanity, was aware Norse Gods were no legend even before Loki showed up. But what always had intrigued her was _what_ and _why_ Loki had been summoned to her. None of her books gave her plausible explanations for their imminent attraction either, but more so than that, not a single one had prepared her—or them—for the arrival of Thanos.

Agatha knew from the very first time, from their first meet, that Loki would be killed by Thanos in front of her, strangled to death, and in all their years together there hadn’t been a time she saw that vision changing. But what she _didn’t know_ then was just how important Loki would become to her, how much she would feel his lost, how the pain would break her to pieces. And there was nothing she could do to bring him back. He wasn’t like the rest, that she had lost for the blip, Loki had been killed before, during Thanos’s search for the stones. There was no book, no incantation that would bring him fully back. Even necromancy wouldn’t work in that case—it would bring him to her, but it would never really be him, just a ghost of the man she loved.

Love. Agatha never imagined she could love someone, especially not Loki who had gotten on her nerve for so long, not him who had tricked her so many times. But she did, she had opened her iced heart for him and he’d stolen it mercilessly. And now he was dead, he had gone and gotten himself killed trying to protect her. She was alone again.

But it was all right, because Agatha was used to loneliness.

Well… She _had been_ used to loneliness.

The first time Agatha feels _something_ other than sorrow is a five years after the blip. She feels the shift on the universe when people are brought back, and she sees on the news, reports of all the missing people returning, the fallen reappearing. But this is different, only a few days after people are brought back, after the Avengers defeat Thanos, it’s _magic_ that Agatha feels. And there’s a considerable difference on the energy of the stones and the incantations, a difference only witches with abilities like herself can tell. But the afterglow of so many spells cast all at once is too strong, it pulls her toward a power she wants, _needs_ to acquire, because what else there’s for her? What else is she going to do with if not go back to being exactly the evil one everyone cast her to be.

But _why_ were the spells being cast? She couldn’t make heads and tails of it, not even after coming to Westview to find two Avengers—one who had presumably been dead before the blip and the other that had disappeared _with it_ —living a perfect nineteen-fifties life, full of costumes and strange situations. It was like Wanda was in a sort of trance and Agatha didn’t know, nor couldn’t ask, how she’d done it. But she needed it, oh she needed it _badly_. Power was everything Agatha had now that Loki was gone, and she was going to take it away from Wanda the same way she’d taken from so many other sorcerers along the line. But something happened, it stopped her. A vision of herself and Loki, together again. It took her breath away entirely, how vivid and strong it was, she could capture every single detail of it, and one was a fallen Wanda on the ground. She wasn’t in any fifties clothing and by the looks of it not in Westview at all.

Agatha wasn’t quite sure yet how, but het gut told her she had to investigate further before she actually took action into taking Wanda’s powers, especially if that meant it could bring Loki back. She do would just _anything_ for him to be brought to life, even if it meant ending Wanda’s life. Nothing, and no one, was going to stop them from being together again.


End file.
